Chapter 004
Ghost of the Past I
The crisp morning of fog and snow filled the breeze. The town was painted grey as it was filled with the buzzing of commerce and carriages. My ears were burning red and I could see my breath. The crunching of the frozen leaves followed each step as I shivered.
It was nice to get out of that chaotic house. My family’s voices drilled my eardrums like a bee’s stinger whenever I was jailed in there.
The streets of the capital city, Luvon, were almost always packed with carriages and chatting. The people buzzed and the atmosphere remained cheerful even after all those years of war and suffering. Maybe their cheerfulness was only used to try and hide their scars from the war. But mine were too deep to share their happiness. I'm sure if I looked hard enough there would be others like me here in these grimy streets.
For the people, it was a miracle that the war had ended. If anybody surveilled the crowd for a few seconds, they would notice that there was a missing generation. People with wrinkles and hair color that were slowly drying out were common, with children scrambling around and adults fresh from childhood. But it was hard to find anybody in between; if you did they would have one or two scars, maybe even missing a ligament. It was something severe enough to get them dragged back to their homeland from the frontlines.
A carriage pulled by minosears whizzed past me. I coughed from the dust storm that swept up and flew into my face as the minosears roared into the distance. My rags were smudged into a sandy color with dust from the street covering them. Damnit, I just washed these.
My clothes were starting to form holes, so Lav'arc and I referred to them as "rags."
I hadn’t seen Minosears in years. They, in my opinion, were amazing. They had metal-like horns and there were breeds of minosears for each color. Their gray skin made them look like ore. I had always wanted to ride a white-horned one to match my hair. Maybe someday. I could imagine it now, a nice open plain, a minosear, and our epic ride off into the sunset scene. The minosear would have golden horns and would be the king minosear. It could even hav—
“Watch where you're walking ya brat!” spat a man I just rammed into. He was knocked down onto the powdery snow, his plump belly rippling from the impact. The flakes exploded into the air, smothering his face. The man rubbed his head, ruffing his fluffy, light brown hair after our heads clashed together. He was wearing a leather hat and shirt that were now painted in snow. Shit. It was a nobleman. His fancy attire tipped me off that his pockets were deep. Unfortunately, all the money drowned his sense of empathy. In other words, they always had a shitty attitude. Best to lighten the blow
“Oh, I’m sorry” I pleaded immediately, bowing multiple times. I couldn't harm the reputation of the orphanage.
“You must be insane! Not watching where you're going! What kind of brat are you?” snorted the brown-haired old man as he dusted the snow off all of his clothes. His bastardous smirk on his face looked really punchable. I’ve dealt with people like him before. They were nuisances, but just bugs. Now that he finally finished dusting off all of his clothes, he should start spitting on mine soon.
“Alright you brat, you want a piece of me! Huh?” He scuffed loudly, fixing his hat. As his eyes made contact with mine, a wave washed over him. “Wait a minute, Vy’len? Your alive?!”
He trudged forward like he was in shock. His face lit up like a burning candle. "It's been forever! How are you, my friend?"
Who the hell? Did I know a scruffy, brown-haired man? I didn't think so. Although, it was surprising that I didn't meet any of my parent's friends after their death. Could my dad have known him? I tried to defend myself. I pushed at his attempts to hug me. Should I run away? No, he's actions are genuine and it's best to clean up this mess before it escalates. I took a step back and lightly pushed him away, "I'm not Vy'len and I don't know who that is."
"Come on! It's me! Mier'kno! Your old colleague from a decade ago!" he announced like I was in the wrong.
"I'm not Vy'len!" I yelled, "I don't know who they are and I don't want to say that again. I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I'm not the person you're looking for!"
"No... there's no way I would mistake those eyes," he muttered, gazing creepily as if he could peer right through me. Suddenly tears started dripping down his eyes, "That's right Vy'len is dead. Don't try to convince yourself, Mier'kno."
He grabbed his hat that had fallen on the muddy street again, "I'm sorry for bothering you. A few years ago, I had an old companion that was murdered. He was like a son to me. Your eyes reminded me of his and--" his gaze wandered as his voice began to weep, "-- I really thought you were him."
My eyes almost teared up at his experience. There wasn't any detail for my brain to chew on, but losing someone wasn't easy. It should never happen to anyone.
"Ah. Look at the time," he muttered, looking at his watch, "Sorry for bothering you again, I'll best be on my way now."
Vy'len... I remember my parents mentioning that name. The old man said I looked familiar too...
"Wait," I replied, getting the old man to halt in his tracks. "Did Vy'len have black hair?"
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Was he also about this tall--" I used my hands to gesture the height-- "and have blue eyes like mine?"
If I was correct. Vy'len was one of my dad's friends, maybe even my dad--I didn't remember. When Mom and Dad chattered, I couldn't hear that well because I was in my bed already, but dad always loved to talk about his coworkers.
"Why yes he did!" the old man blurted, "did you know him perhaps?"
I cracked a smile, "I did... he was a great man."
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“Bwaahahahah!” the old man exclaimed loudly. His cheeks were bright red and he was onto his fifth bottle. “You couldn’t believe how surprised I was when I met my old colleague’s son. You two look identical you know? Except for the hair and the eyes of course.”
“We’re in a public place, can’t you keep it down?” I whispered, shriveling up, trying to hide my face with my shirt. We got strange glances from other people, even across the room. “Why did you invite me here? I’m not even of age.”
It was weird to see someone his age with no major scars, but guessing by his roundness and personality, he’s never smelled the stench of blood at the frontlines. This was exactly why I hated the nobleman; they were born into power and talent and didn’t have to ride up the ranks like us commoners. If we wanted success outside of daily life in poverty, we would have to face death fighting. We would have to puke up blood, get our ribs shattered, and maybe even lose an arm to succeed.
Most of us didn’t even return home
The worst thing is that we’re protecting the nobleman by doing this. Preventing invading countries or worlds into our land. Although it was mostly the Yamqia that attacked us, our land was useless to the other luminescent races.
That was why it sucked. The aristocrats were benefitting the most from us commoners dying and risking our lives in war, just because we had a slim hope to give our family a better life.
“Stop pestering brat. I’m having fun talking to you. Make sure to drink up as well.” cackled the old man as he slammed down his sixth jug. He was so loud he could swallow a fly whole easily.
“Did you not hear what I just said?” I muttered, knowing that he wouldn’t listen to me anyways. How did Dad put up with this guy for years? Take it from me, when he leaned back in his chair, I prayed to the Ailvas that it would slip.
The pub was full of old men with fluffy beards gulping down entire bottles at once. Most of them were missing an arm or had a nasty scar or two skidding across their face.
Don't even get me started on how I managed to get past that gate. The old man exchanged a couple of glances and I caught a glimpse of a leather bag being handed to the owner.
"If this is all we're doing then I'm out of here," I exclaimed, pushing my chair and standing up. There was nothing for me to gain here. I had no plans on getting drunk anytime soon too. "I appreciate the time you took to bring me here, but we barely even know each other."
"Bwahahahaha! I knew bringing you here was an amazing idea!" yelled the old man, bonking his head on the table multiple times. His eyes started to go woozy and blood dripped down his forehead. "Did you really think I brought you here for no reason?"
He shot up to his feet and started trudging towards me. With each step, he nearly lost his balance like a boat afloat on water. He ended his drunk dance by leaning on me. His eyes lagged behind his head when tried scanning our surroundings.
"Let's go to a place where we can talk. These walls have ears after all." muttered the old man, half-asleep.
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That's how I ended up lugging an old man on my back for several miles on a crowded street. I'm surprised he managed to walk a couple of feet without passing out. The guards made sure to check him, but after they caught a whiff of his stench and peered inside the bar they left us alone. They left me alone even though I don’t even look old enough to be inside that bar.
I hated guards. Whenever I saw one, my fist clenched and it took all of my strength not to cave their faces in. Guards were patrolling around the city. I didn't mind that, I liked being kept safe. It's just that, where the hell were they when my parents died?
The old man began grunting an uninterpretable sound. His woozy eyes became full of life. He waved his arms around like crazy, probably from the shock of being in the air but I didn't know. What I did know was that a kid like me couldn't carry a man his size when they started flailing about.
The old man slid off, crashing into the floor in not-the-most-of-prettiest-fashions. His belly bounced up and down as he plummeted to the ground like he was a sports ball.
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled the man, bouncing up to his feet. He rambled on about treating your elders but I covered my ears with my hands and faced away from him. He continued to blabber about nonsense that I wasn't in the mood to hear.
“Argh… Just shut up already! I don’t care about how old you are and that you are so much richer than I am. I don’t get how my father could endure being near you for two seconds much less 4 years!” I shrieked, yelling into his face and pulling the collar of his shirt.
Whoops. I went too far. Waaaay too far. I covered my head with my hands like I was diving for cover.
“Bwahahaha!” He wheezed with his signature laugh. “You're a brat alright. Just like your father.”
“Are you still drunk? I murmured because people across the street were staring at us. It felt like their gazes were stabbing me.
Suddenly, his face sharpened up. He stood up instead of hanging his head down in the droops. He straightened his hat and cleared his throat.
”Listen up brat. Sorry for the act earlier, there are people watching me right now.” He announced, “We need to go to somewhere safer, to avoid the prying eyes.”
“I’m interested,” I responded, intrigued by the sudden change in his manner, “But isn’t carrying you on my back a little suspicious?”
”I’ve done worse,” he replied, not concerned at all, “Also, the old geezers that track my every move wouldn’t find it surprising that I got passed out in a bar and need help from a friend.”
”What old geezers?”
”There pretty damn important—I’ll tell you that,” he responded turning around, “If your interested to learn more, we can talk about it. I have lots of time my friend.”
”Actually you spent 4 hours in that pub drinking.”
”What?! We need to hurry!” He yelled, scratching his head as he freaked out, “I only have—let me check my schedule—… 2 hours left?! Actually… that’s a good amount of time.”
“Hey brat, do you think you could carry me again? I can barely stand.” He sighed, hunched over, pointing in the direction he wanted to go.
I groaned louder than an explosion.